


gay is not a synonym for shitty (boyf riends)

by simp_of_arc



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: College, M/M, Musicals, Pining, Post-Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz, Slow Burn, bmc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:33:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26257198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simp_of_arc/pseuds/simp_of_arc
Summary: "𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘴𝘰 𝘣𝘢𝘥𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘶𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺 𝘣𝘭𝘶𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯𝘴𝘪 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦"When Michael has to move to the Philippines for college, Jeremy is stuck. He tries to stay in touch with his best friend, but eventually, they drift apart. Years later, when Jeremy sees Michael again for the first time, he notices things about Michael that has changed since high school, and because of this, Jeremy starts to question his sexuality.
Relationships: Jeremy Heere & Michael Mell, Jeremy Heere/Michael Mell
Comments: 16
Kudos: 51





	1. chapter one - parting

**Author's Note:**

> i promised myself that i wouldn't impulsively write another fic
> 
> i broke that promise today
> 
> i pre-wrote like three of these chapters so i could actually have a story when i published this
> 
> i'm also purposely making this short to make it easier on myself
> 
> also yes i did name a boyf riends fic after a peterick song hahaha whoops
> 
> enjoy some gay shit with some tears on the side
> 
> \- mari

The digital clock on the nightstand read 2:36 AM; probably much too late (early?) for me to have been awake. The room was swallowed in darkness except for a little IKEA nightlight that looked like an alien... thing... radiating blue and green fading light next to the bed.

I didn't mind the dark, though. It was easy for me to see the stars through the upstairs window. Almost every constellation was out that night; Ursa Major, Draco, Perseus, Ursa Minor, all of 'em. It was overwhelming beautiful.

There were so many emotions coming over me that night, so much that it felt like my lanky teenage body couldn't handle them.

"Jer?" I heard a voice behind me. I turned around to see Michael, my best friend, lifting his body up from under the covers to look at me, "Why are you sitting there all creepy like that?"

I noticed how creepily I was sitting. I looked like an owl perched on a branch stalking its prey.  
"Just... thinking," I replied, drawing my knees closer to my chest.   
"About what?" Michael asked, crawling up next to me so we were both sitting at the edge of the bed.  
"You know..."   
"Oh," I could barely see his face, but I could tell it fell into a melancholy expression.

I hugged my knees tighter, "Why do you have to go?"   
"It's not like I want to, man, I want to go to college with you, I want to fulfill our lifelong goal of being cool in college, but instead, my moms made me go all the way to the fucking Philippines for college," I knew that. I've known that since the beginning of the summer, and despite the fact that I had two months to let the fact sink in, it didn't, and I wasn't ready for him to leave in less than twelve hours.

"I just wish we had more time," I said, "there's so much stuff on our bucket list we haven't done together yet."  
"Hey," he rested his hand on top of mine, squeezing it, "we'll do them someday, we have the rest of our lives."

Despite his assurance, my eyes started to sting and my throat ached. I tried to swallow down my emotions, but it didn't work, and a tear fell from my face and left a little stain on my comforter.

Michael leaned down and looked directly at me, his expression becoming even sadder after noticing me crying. He lifted his thumb to my cheek and wiped my tear away.

"You're gonna be okay, Jeremy. I promise. We'll both be okay," his voice was calm and collected, despite me hearing a hint of sadness. My head fell onto his shoulder as he wrapped his arm around my back. We didn't say anything after that, we simply sat there in silence, enjoying the presence of the other.

I heard soft snoring after what felt like hours, even if it was only a few minutes. I smiled to myself and let my eyes slowly close as I drifted farther and farther away from consciousness.

I woke a few hours later in a different position than when I fell asleep. Instead of sitting at the edge of the bed up against Michael, I was back under the covers and lying down. I assumed he laid me down and tucked me in while I was asleep, and the thought of that was... comforting.

My body was facing away from him, so I turned over. Now, he was the one sitting at the edge of the bed, awake. I assumed quite a few hours have passed, considering that there was daylight seeping into the room.

"Now you're the one sitting there creepily," I commented, rubbing my eyes as I sat up. Michael gasped and turned his head around, most likely being startled by my sudden statement.  
"Haha, yeah..." he said dryly. I could immediately sense something was wrong. Michael was usually relatively bubbly, even in his worst moments, he was never dry like that.

"What's wrong?" I sat down next to him, my legs dangling off of the edge of the bed.  
"N-Nothing."  
"You're a terrible liar, you know that?"   
"I um..." he started, "Ireallyneedtotellyousomething."

He looked tense... really, really tense. He refused to look at me and his eyes were glued to the floor. I raised my hand and placed it on his shoulder for comfort, and that's when he finally brought his eyes to mine.   
"Of course, you can tell me anything," I assured him.  
He gulped, seeming to mentally prepare himself, "Um... I..."  
He paused, recollecting his thoughts together to turn them into words. I simply gave him time and waited patiently for him to say what he wanted to say.

"N-Never mind, forget I said anything," Michael suddenly stood up. His mood when from tense back to his old self, as if nothing had happened.  
I looked at him confused for a moment, before deciding that I shouldn't ponder on it too much, "Okay, weirdo."

"What time is it?" Michael asked as he stretched his arms.  
"Uhh," I took out my phone, "half past eight."  
"Shit, I gotta be at the airport in an hour. I put my luggage in your car, right?"   
"Yessir," I confirmed.   
"Okay, just making sure."

Today was the day that Michael was leaving. School started in a week, and he was going to meet his moms at the airport to fly to the Philippines; and there was absolutely nothing I could do to stop it.

After getting dressed and checking to see if Michael had his suitcases together, I started to drive him to the nearest airport, which was around a half hour away.

There was so much I wanted to say during that car ride; a sentimental paragraph of parting words or something, or maybe apologize for a billionth time about all of the shit that went down in junior year with... yeah. Even after a year and a half, I still felt bad, even thought Michael probably completely forgot about the incident.

My mind still stuck on what happened earlier this morning, when Michael decided last minute not to tell me the thing he wanted to tell me. I scanned over the hundreds of possibilities that the something could be, and I would probably never find out. It frustrated me, especially since whatever Michael was going to tell me seemed like a super big deal. The last time he was this nervous about telling me something was when he came out to me as gay in eighth grade.

The car ride was eerily silent, which I hated. I wanted to chat with Michael, especially since he was going away for... god knows how long. But, there was nothing exchanged. He said nothing, I said nothing. Only the sounds of my car driving on the interstate.

I pulled into the line of cars at the terminal drop-off. I could feel tears starting to form again as Michael opened the car door to get his luggage. I got out of the car to help him pull out his two huge, overpacked suitcases.

"I guess this is it," Michael finally said, a wistful smile forming. The dam finally broke, and silent tears starting streaming down my face.

I crushed Michael in a tight and desperate bear hug, like it would be the last hug I would ever give him (and it probably would be).  
"I love you so fucking much, bro," I know, probably a little gay to say to your best friend, but this was different.   
I heard Michael sniff as he returned the hug, "I love you too."   
"Don't forget about me."  
"I won't, Jer, I promise I won't."

I pulled away from him, still a teary mess. We did our little handshake before he grabbed both of his suitcases, did one final wave, and entered the automatic doors.

My eyes were locked on him until he left my view. I felt a sudden emptiness inside of me, like a part of me was missing.

I was going to have to get used to this feeling.

word count: 1357


	2. chapter two - things aren't the same anymore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three years later, Jeremy is in his junior year of college. A lot of things have changed.

Three years later.

Things have changed. A lot. I didn't want things to change, I wanted them to stay the same, I tried my absolute best to make them stay the same. But they didn't, and probably would never be the same ever again.

The first couple weeks of freshman year in college were the toughest. I wasn't completely alone, Rich was my roommate, which made things slightly easier (although, it was a little awkward considering that Michael and Rich used to date in junior year and had the messiest breakup I've ever seen. I just hoped to god that they were on good terms now and Rich didn't hate me).

We got along well... I think. Rich wasn't a total asshole, contrary to popular belief. He was a nice guy once you got to know him, he just had a lot of... unhealed wounds from his past. We bonded over our parental issues.

Once Michael moved to the Philippines, the entirety of our friendship was through texting, calling, and playing games while chatting over Discord. For the first few months of freshman year, we would do that almost every day for hours at a time. I once pulled an all-nighter before an exam while doing so.

Slowly, however, Michael got even more busy with school, and we talked less and less. By sophomore year, we only communicated through brief conversations over text and the occasional comment on one-another's posts. As much as I wanted to salvage our friendship, it accepted the fact that... maybe he was moving on. Maybe he didn't need me as much anymore. It stung a little.

Junior year came, and we would go weeks, or even months without saying a single word to each other. He never posted on his social media accounts, so there would be days where I completely forgot he existed altogether.

And just like that, things changed, and I accepted that things changed. I accepted that we would probably never complete our bucket list, or be cool in college together, or be anything more than just a guy I knew from high school.

*****

"Are you guys going home for the summer?" Mark asked, taking a sip of his iced coffee.   
"I'm not, my parents have enough on their hands. They don't need their problematic son stuck with them for two-and-a-half months," Connor responded with a melancholy tone.  
"Felt that," Rich chimed in. He and Connor exchanged the 'yeah, we have issues' look.

It was around nine in the morning, and we had class at eleven, so the little group of friends I made over my years in college decided to get some breakfast at the nearest Starbucks, and we stuck together at a table. Rich was the one who introduced me to them all, I was too awkward to make any friends on my own.

"I probably will. My parents will be pissed if I don't," said Elizabeth. She adjusted the drawstrings on her hoodie and rested her tired head on the side of the booth.   
"What about you, Jeremy?" asked Mark.   
I looked up from my half-eaten croissant. The crumbs sprinkled the paper bag the pastry was handed to me in, "Me? Oh, uh... I don't know. I like it here, but my dad will probably get lonely considering the fact that... yeah."

"It's been over four years and you still haven't heard from her?" Rich asked.  
I shook my head, "No. At this point, I don't even know if I want to. I've had a lot of time to think, and... I'm not sure if I want her back into my life anymore."

Silence washed over the table.

I realized how awkward it was to be spilling your entire life story to a bunch of college kids in a Starbucks booth.

"Sorry... I kinda killed the mood," I mumbled awkwardly, trying to bury my face while taking a sip of that sweet, sweet morning caffeine.   
"Nonsense, bro, we're all friends here, we're all fucked up in one way or another," Rich said as he gave me a firm pat on my shoulder.

"I almost got hit by a bus in fifth grade, that was pretty fucked up," Elizabeth laughed.   
"I almost drowned in the pool when I was six," Mark said, like it was the most casual thing in the world.   
"Oooooohkay, how about we not unpack our childhood trauma right at this moment," suggested Connor, pushing his hair out of his face.   
"I second that," I slightly elevated my hand.

We quickly changed the subject.

*****

The last day of classes went by in a vague blur, even with the afterparty to drag it out a couple of hours.

I didn't do much at the party. Even after everything that happened in junior year of high school (which was four years ago at this point, holy shit), I still had absolutely no social skills whatsoever.

I never talked to girls, I simply preferred to admire them at a distance (and no, not in the perverted way I did as a teenager by staring at their asses, simply just by staring at their pretty faces and hair and whatever the fuck else was going on. Girls are very very pretty, and I felt very lucky to be attracted to them).

I was already packed when I left the frat house when the party was dying down. Two suitcases were shoved into the backseat of my Honda Civic because they couldn't fit in the trunk.

I already said proper goodbyes to Elizabeth, Connor, Mark, and Rich before the party, because at that time, they were actually sober (unlike now). I was all on my own for the next few months, and I was okay with that.

The drive home was only around an hour or two. Wasn't treacherous, wasn't tedious. Simply a drive from point A to point B. Barely any traffic. I let my phone shuffle all of the music in my library, even the music from my various phases in middle and high school that I would've rather forgotten. It made me remember a lot of things; like how in sophomore year I was a Barb, or how in eighth grade I went through a closeted alternative phase.

Despite the dark, I recognized everything as soon as I returned to my familiar neighborhood. Everything from the last time I was here came back to my memory. I turned off my GPS app because I knew exactly where I was going.

I was only a few minutes from home when I remembered that I would drive past Michael's house, and once again, I was reminded of his existence. Michael was a person who existed. It was nothing more than a fact that I acknowledged, no emotions attached. I lived long enough without him to not miss him anymore. Eighteen-year-old-me would've been distraught at this fact, but twenty-one-year-old-me simply accepted it as if it were a fact from a textbook.

When I actually passed his house, I simply started to stare at it without a thought. But, the more I stared at the house, the more I realized that the lights were on. And cars, more specifically, Michael and his moms' cars (I had no idea how I still remembered their appearances), were in the driveway.

I could only look at it for a moment, for I had to keep my eyes on the road, but the image still stuck in my head. The two other summers I've come back to my dad's house from college, Michael's house was completely empty, but not this time. That meant that he was home.

Just in a few seconds, it seemed like every single emotion crashed into my body at once, which left  
me frozen and my eyes locked on the road. So many thoughts were going through my mind that I could barely keep track of them all.

I shook them off. I didn't need him on my mind, not right now at least.

A sense of comfort came over me when I finally pulled into my dad's driveway. It felt like the place where stuff truly never changed, and that was a good thing.

I pulled my luggage out of my car and dragged it to the front door, ringing the doorbell.

There was a loud, but high pitched barking at the sound of my doorbell. My heart jumped. I didn't recall ever having a dog.

My dad opened the door. He was wearing a t-shirt, and, thank the lord, cargo shorts. By his feet was a pug that I've never seen before, on their hind legs to greet me.

"Hey, bud," my dad smiled, reaching out to give me a hug. I embraced him for a few seconds before pulling away.  
"Who is this dog..?" I asked, looking down at the pug.  
"This is Lily, I got her around a month ago for some company. I decided to keep it a surprise," he chuckled, picking Lily up in his arms.

I stared in awe. It was probably the most adorable sight I've ever seen.  
"She's so cute," I smiled and gave her a pat on the head. I loved dogs, despite the fact that I've never owned a dog before.   
"She was already house-trained before I got her, so we don't need to worry about her peeing everywhere,"

I immediately dropped my suitcases, "In that case, she's coming with me," I reached my arms and eagerly took Lily from my dad. I held her carefully so I wouldn't drop her squirmy body.   
"I help you with your luggage, son."

When I saw my room, it was exactly how it was when I left it last summer. All of my old posters were still up, and I still had my old Atari set on a little screen. It felt like... home.

As I settled down for bed, Lily at my feet, I couldn't stop thinking about Michael. He was actually home. I actually had a possibility of seeing him in person after all of these years.

Did I want to? I wasn't sure.

word count: 1696

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have... mixed feelings about the quality of this book's writing. it would pass on wattpad, but i'm not sure about here.


	3. chapter three - familiar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy sees Michael again after years of not seeing him in person, and it's making him... question things.

As a kid, waking up on the first day of summer vacation would be once of the most magical feelings in the world. No school, no homework, I simply had all day to myself to whatever I wanted.

Throughout middle and high school, summer was one of the most depressing times of the year for me. My mental health was at its lowest point during those years.

Nowadays, summer felt like any other time. The first day of summer felt like any other day of the year. I would completely forget that it was summer altogether.

When I woke up that morning, I felt the latter. But, the latter was hinted with slight pleasure when I remembered that Lily was sleeping at my feet within twenty-four hours of knowing me. She looked completely content, lacking a single care in the world. I wished I could say the same for myself.

I gave her a pat on her little head, which caused her eyes to open and look up at me. Just seeing that made the morning that much sweeter.

I stretched my arms to get any tension out of them, and then proceeded to slip on an old pair of crocs that I owned in senior year of high school (they were the closest shoes to my current location of standing).

While in college, I got myself into the habit of taking small walks around campus every morning to get fresh air and clear my head from whatever happened the day before. Today was no different.

My dad was still asleep when I left, but I left a note anyways so he wouldn't think I got kidnapped in the middle of the night. I didn't want an entire search warrant to be sent after me just because I wanted to go for a therapeutic walk.

As soon as I left, I took in the summer atmosphere. The cicadas ringing in the ambience, the green grass and trees bathing in the sun, the smell of a freshly mowed lawn, and the heat giving me a break from my air-conditioned home. I felt the familiar comfort that you always get in June: that you have a long summer ahead of you and plenty of time to accomplish anything you want. For the first time in a while, I felt... lovely. Everything felt lovely.

I forgot how much I missed my neighborhood when I was in school. I felt like a dumb teenager not legally old enough to live on their own again. For a moment, I didn't feel the pressures of being an adult that was drowning in student loan debt.

Out of all of the walks I have taken, this one in particular was by far the most therapeutic.

But then, after a few minutes of nothingness in my brain, my drive home last night suddenly came back to me.

My mind went back and forth if whether I should avoid Michael's house and skip an awkward conversation or give in to my curiosity and maybe get one last look.

I chose the second option.

I would later find out that the decision I made would pay off immensely.

It took a few minutes to reach his street, but soon enough, the roof of his house was in sight over the tree line. It brought back... feelings. Feelings I completely forgot I had. I didn't know how to feel about said feelings.

I remembered all of the times we sat in his basement getting high, playing video games, or whatever else. A soft smile came to my lips.

His whole house was in sight. Nothing changed. It was the same as it always was. Not even a new coat of paint.

When I saw his driveway, my heart stopped. My body stopped. Even time itself stopped.

He was there.

Michael was there.

Oh my god.

Michael wasn't doing anything. He was just sitting on his front step, seemingly staring off into space. But, he looked... different.

His skin was tanner, probably from all of the times in the sun in the Philippines. His jet black hair wasn't swooped to the side, but rather sitting atop of his head and slightly more curled.

He wore an open button-up shirt and a t-shirt underneath with jean shorts that hovered right above his knees. And, instead of the white sneakers I always saw him wear with weed socks pulled up to mid-calf, he wore checkered Vans slip-on shoes.

I couldn't stop staring; I hoped he didn't notice me staring. There was something about this new, older Michael that made me refuse to take my eyes away. Him alone was like one of those optical illusions that put you into a trance. My heart was pounding in my chest.

Michael seemed to finally snap out of his trance, too, and his eyes inevitably drifted over to me. He was staring at me, while I was staring at him. He looked just as surprised as I was. We were caught in each other's gazes.

I panicked when he got up and started walking closer to me. My gaze broke and I immediately went into panic mode.  
What do I say? What do people even SAY to their best friends from high school who they haven't seen in years? What the actual fu-

"Your name wouldn't happen to be Jeremy Heere, wouldn't it?" FUCK. Even his introduction was smooth. And did he get taller?  
He did get taller. We were the same height now.

"T-That would be me," I mumbled.  
"Hooooolyyyyy shit," Michael looked at me, amazed. Although, I didn't know why he would be amazed at the sight of me considering I woke up twenty minutes earlier and was still in my pajamas.  
"Y-You look different," I said, "A good different. You look good."  
Michael laughed, showing his teeth. They were pure white, and his genuine smile alone looked like it could give me a lifetime supply of serotonin, "Yeah, college really changes you doesn't it?"

"Yeah, heh, I guess it does. How've you been?" I asked.  
"I've been okay, I guess... the Philippines has some really cute boys, so that's a pro," he was acting like we haven't not had a single conversation in over a year. Like we haven't drifted apart, "I've missed you, though."  
If you missed me so much, how come we haven't talked in so long? "I've missed you too,"

Michael was so... social all of a sudden. Maybe it was because I was his best friend, but I've never seen him that happy and cheery in his life. He was right; college really did change you.

"Look, ah, I'd really love to talk more, but I got some shit to do. You wanna meet at the mall tomorrow or somethin'? We have a lot to catch up on," he rubbed the back of his neck.  
"Uhhhm," I couldn't say no, either because I wanted to be polite or I didn't want to say no, "Y-yeah! Uhh, text me a good t-time and uh... I'll... meet... you... there..." I gave him finger guns and my mind did the internal equivalent of a facepalm.  
Michael laughed again, "Sounds good, fam."

Fam? Did Michael really just say fam?

We said our goodbyes, and despite the fact that was a very, very short conversation, it left me thinking a lot.

Michael had changed to the point where he was almost un-recognizable. It was like talking to a complete stranger. The only change I actually liked was his appearance. I didn't know why, it just really appealed to me. It made me have an emotional reaction. It was a weird emotional reaction, but I liked it nonetheless.

I decided to push him out of my mind for a little bit and think about other people who didn't make me feel weird; like Rich. Rich was cool. He didn't make me feel weird and awkward. He was my friend.

I got home as fast as I could, I couldn't stand being in the blazing summer sun for another second.

I spent the rest of my day trying to distract myself as best I could. Michael still came back into my mind occasionally throughout the day, but I immediately pushed him out.

But, fate couldn't stop me from the fact that I would be seeing, hanging out with him, tomorrow. Was it terrifying? Maybe. Was I looking forward to it? Maybe. Everything was a maybe.

word count: 1418


	4. chapter four - you know it's strange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy and Michael meet at the mall, which held more importance than Jeremy originally though.

Michael planned for us to meet at the mall at 12:30 the next day.

I needed a lot more time than that to emotionally prepare, but I obliged anyway, texting back with a simple "okay cool." Dry, I know, but I wasn't used to texting Michael again after a year of not doing so.

It was well known, and well feared, by myself that this was going to be painfully awkward. Maybe not to him, because apparently college turned him into a social extrovert, but it would be for me.

If this were high school Michael, I wouldn't have a problem. I had barely changed since high school and would probably get along with him fine; but this new Michael was... scary to me. Not only with his new personality, but with his looks; he was horrifyingly attractive, and more like a famous screen actor than a regular person who I knew from my childhood. I couldn't look at him for more than two seconds without freezing up and slowly but surely dying inside.

My dad was none the wiser about the whole situation: it didn't really concern him of what was going on in my life because I was a full-grown adult, and he knew that. Plus, a good chunk of his attention was focused on Lily, she was a puppy after all.

I put a lot of thought into my outfit to see Michael; something that would possibly make me level up to his attractiveness. I never liked dressing up, but I had to make today an exception.

My old oversized striped shirt which I haven't worn since high school blatantly hung in my closet like it was calling to me. "Wear me, Jeremy, I look more formal than any of your other shirts and, plus, I don't have any cum stains on me," was probably what it would've said if it was a living being with a functional brain that could talk. But of course, it said nothing, it just hung there on the clothing hanger, because it was nothing more than a shirt.

Don't ask about the cum stains part.

I slipped on the shirt, along with some jeans, and looked at myself in the mirror. My shirt was just... there. My outfit felt... incomplete.

So, I did my default; tucking my shirt into my jeans and putting on a belt to add some much-needed spice to it.

It looked a little better, but that didn't dismiss the fact that my baggy jeans also looked incomplete, and the ends of the pant legs were messily piled atop my feet.

Cuff them? Cuff them.

I cuffed them. Twice, in fact, so that the jeans became short enough to see the entirety of my old, worn, blue converse high tops (I was going to wear doc martins, but I figured they wouldn't go with the outfit as well). I was surprised that the converse shoes fit, considering they've been in my closet for... god knows how many years.

My reflection in the mirror presented to me a taller, older looking version of my sixteen-year-old self. My hair was brushed to the point where the auburn curls turned into frizz that covered one of my eyes. I finally felt confident enough to leave the house and face the scary, alien, adult, so-horrifically-gorgeous-that-it-made-me-angry man that called himself Michael Mell. I secretly hoped that presenting as my old self would bring his old self back, too, although, I highly doubted it would work.

The door of my room closed behind me as I left my room and went down to the living room to grab my keys. My dad was in the living room, watching some kind of TLC reality show that didn't interest me in the slightest.

"I'm heading out," I said, my hand doing a little awkward wave.  
"Where you goin'?" my dad inquired. He turned around to face me.  
"The mall. I'm uh... seeing somebody."  
"Hm. Okay, don't have too much fun, son. Be back by dinner, I'm actually making something for once," he chuckled like it was the funniest thing in the world.   
I smiled, "Alright, I will. Love you."  
"Love you too."

The car ride to the mall was intense, full of anxiety and uncertainty. Not even my favorite songs on my favorite playlist by my favorite bands could calm my panicking nerves.

I immediately began making a list of pros and cons of this outing in my head:

Pros: Seeing your best friend again, having the excuse to stare at him without it being weird because you'll have to make eye contact with him when he talks to you.

Cons: Will be super awkward, you'll have to carry a conversation, you'll be interacting with strange adult Michael rather than much-less-terrifying teenage Michael, you'll probably shrivel up and die of embarrassment and anxiety because you have crippling insecurity about your ability to socially interact with people.

The cons outweighed the pros; therefore, this event was going to be torture.

But, there I was, leaving my car, entering the mall, walking towards the exact spot he wanted to meet me (by a Payless Shoe Source. Life really does go full circle, huh).

And, to my absolute dread, scary attractive adult Michael was there already, waiting for me. He wore a very similar outfit to what he wore the day before, the only difference were the colors... and, oh god, he still had those Vans.

Just say hi. It's not that hard. Walk up there and just. Say. Hi.

"Hi," I said as I walked up to him, just like my internal thoughts instructed me to do.   
He noticed me and smiled, "Hey, man! How are you?"

I cringed at his overly-cheerful response, "I'm good, I'm good."   
The discomfort from when I met Michael yesterday returned to me. I hoped that maybe, just maybe, he was acting differently because he didn't expect to see me. But in this situation, he did expect me, and he still acted the same as he did the day before.

I was... disappointed, to say the least.

We decided to get some food at the food court before we went shopping for stuff. Despite being content about the idea externally, internally, I was going nuts. Eating together meant conversation, and I really didn't want to engage in conversation with this Michael.

Inevitably, we got our food, me getting chili fries and a soda while he got... a Dunkin' Donuts iced coffee and a croissant... okay, this was just an alien at this point, all remainders of the Michael I knew were gone with no hope of coming back.

I hate this, I thought.

"Y'know, you never ended up telling me what you were majoring in," alien Michael said as we sat down at a table. Seriously? That's the conversation starter you're going with? "Yeah, uh... I guess I didn't. I'm majoring in film... my dad said I always had a knack with the camera, and I guess I've always had interest in cinematography," I let out a laugh that was one-hundred percent forced. 

"Ooooh, that's really cool. I'm currently majoring in business management," he responded, in the most I'm-so-professional-and-mature tone that a human (or alien) could possibly produce.

That was the final straw for me, "Okay, okay, what is up with you!? Why are you so... different? What happened to the Michael who always made weed jokes and gay jokes and sex jokes whenever he had the chance, and constantly talked about the history of his favorite Nintendo games!? Did college completely wipe that Michael from existence? Are you now just... a fucking shell of the person you used to be!?"

I shouldn't have said that, I thought, I should NOT have said that.

Maybe he would hate me, or maybe his feelings were hurt really bad. Maybe he would walk out and any chance of rebuilding out friendship would be out of the fucking window.

But, no, he didn't get mad, he didn't walk out, he simply took a deep breath and relaxed his shoulders, "Alright, alright, you got me, asshole," he laughed. It was a nervous laugh, but a laugh that actually sounded like Michael's, "I guess my college facade didn't work on you, huh?"   
"Facade? You mean you were faking this whole time?" my anger and frustration suddenly seeped away. "Of course it was fake! You think I actually like dressing like this? Nah, way too formal, I miss my patched hoodie and weed socks, man."

The awkwardness and tension from before shattered like a piece of glass, and that familiar sense of comfort that I always got around Michael settled into me, "Oh thank god, I thought you were, like, an alien or something."   
He snorted in genuine, joyful laughter, "An alien? Damn, you really haven't changed at all, Jer. You're even wearing the same shirt you wore for all of highschool. And look at those cuffed jeans, you look bisexual as fuck," he paused for a second, "wait, are you bi?"   
"N-no. At least, I don't think so. And... you remembered the shirt...?" "Yeah, I remember the shirt, dumbass! The pattern is engraved into my braincells."

"Hold on, hold on, why the hell would you fake your entire personality for college?" I asked, returning to the original subject. "It's... kind of a long story," Michael said ernestly, "Basically, the first week or so, I couldn't find anyone who I really... clicked with. People would stare at me in th halls, and eventually, the anxiety from that got to me. I decided to alter my entire personality to fit in with everyone else so I would actually be taken seriously."   
"You? Trying to fit in? Never in a million years could I imagine that." "I know, I know, weird, right? Everyone at school liked me better that way, so, when I came back here and saw you, I figured... you'd like me better that way, too. Buuuuut, guess I was wrong." "Damn right, you were wrong. That persona scared the living bajesus out of me. You said fam, Micha, FAM!! Who the fuck says that!?" I exclaimed. "Scary alien Michael, apparently."

A silence washed over the two of us, which gave Michael, the real Michael, the opportunity to steal one of my chili fries. I didn't care, though. It wasn't like I was hungry enough to eat them all, anyways.

"Look... I think we restarted on the wrong foot. If you're up to it... wanna hang out at my place tomorrow? We can play video games, get high, watch YouTube videos, just like old times, y'know? What d'ya say?" Michael offered. A warm smile tugged at the corner of my lips, "I'm so down." "Hell fuckin' yeah. I'll text you later what time is good, yeah?" "Sounds good. You're heading out now?"  
"Yeahh," he responded, rubbing the back of his neck, "My moms wanted me home around this time. Sorry, man." "Don't worry about it, it's fine. See you tomorrow?"   
"Yeah. See you tomorrow."

Michael picked up his coffee and croissant, tossing them into the trash. As he walked away, he turned around quickly to give me finger guns. I returned them, laughing awkwardly, but happily.

My eyes followed him until he was out of sight, and a strange sort of feeling fluttered in my stomach and chest. It wasn't quite happiness, it felt much more intense than that.

It was strange, but I liked it.

It made me want to see Michael tomorrow even more.

word count: 1938


	5. chapter five - talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While hanging out with Michael like old times, Jeremy experiences some complicated new emotions he has to learn to deal with.

"Yo, give me my fucking ender pearl."  
"Hell no, I killed it, therefore it's mine."  
"But I need it, and you said that you'd help me get it, asshole."  
"Too bad, do you know how much hell I went through getting these? There no way I'm giving them all to you."  
"I didn't say I wanted all of them, I said I needed one of them!"

There was a part of me that wanted to reach through Rich's computer and make his character give me the one singular ender pearl I needed. Yes, I was twenty-one years old and still playing Minecraft, but it my opinion, the true legends are adults who still play Minecraft.

Rich and I were on a video call and doing whatever the fuck we wanted in our server, which consisted of griefing each other's houses and trying not to die. It was... entertaining... as entertaining as playing Minecraft with your roommate at ten o'clock at night was, that is.

"I saw your ex yesterday," I commented as my character was punching down a tree.  
"What?"  
"I saw your ex yesterday," I repeated.  
"Which one?" Rich asked.  
"Michael," I said that with an embarrassed giggle.  
"Willingly or unwillingly?"  
"Eh, bit of both. He wears Vans now."  
"And you're telling me this... why?" he asked.

"I dunno, just thought I'd tell you. You don't mind if I like... hang out with him, do you?"  
"He's your best friend, you don't need my permission. Have sex with him, I don't care," Rich said.  
"Wh-What?! No, god, NO. It's not like that," my entire face warmed up in embarrassment.  
"Mmmmhmmm."  
"It's not! I'm straight, remember? It's totally platonic."

"Jeremy William Heere, you are not straight by any means. You cuff your fucking jeans, no straight man would cuff their jeans, bitches like me cuff their jeans." I could tell Rich was smirking behind his computer screen.  
"You don't wear jeans, Rich, you wear camo pattered sweatpants."  
"Yeah, but if I did wear jeans, my bisexual ass would cuff them."  
"Well, then, I'm breaking the stereotypes! Normalize straight cisgender men cuffing their jeans." I rolled my eyes.  
"You're so dumb," Rich snickered.  
"I know, don't remind me."

Rich laughed, "But seriously, it's cool. I don't give a flying fuck what you do, I got over him years ago. As long as you don't talk shit about me or anything."  
"What makes you think I'd do that?" I asked.  
"I know a thing or two about two-faced people," his tone went a little sadder for a moment. He was talking about Jake, who ditched him in senior year for the jocks and began calling him the f-slur behind his back. We were all dumb shits in high school, and status mattered much more back then, but I still couldn't imagine the pain Rich was going through at that time.

"How did the conversation get from ender pearls to this?" I asked.  
"No clue, but I'm still not giving you any of my ender pearls."  
"Fair enough. I'll just get some myself."

*****

I woke up the next morning to, like, four billion texts from Michael; and by four billion, I meant five. Five texts from Michael. But, close enough.

Today at 8:53 AM  
Michael: Yo  
Michael: Jer  
Michael: I think you left a band tee at my house or smth years ago because I found it on my floor and it sure as hell ain't mine  
Michael: What the fuck does "MCR" stand for  
Michael: Is that one of those emo bands you used to listen to

Today at 10:42 AM  
Me: it stands for my chemical romance  
Me: yes, it's a band, no, we're not going to talk about my emo phase from middle school  
Me: also i have no recollection of leaving my shirt at your house

Michael: That's because you memory is shit

Me: LMAO TRUE  
Me: but can i still pick it up

Michael: Yes.  
Michael: Yes you can.

Me: you didn't get any semen on it did you

Michael: You wish ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)  
Michael: Also why did you turn you autocap off the all-lowercase text is bothering me

Me: stfu your autocap is bothering me

Michael: >:(

Even his texting demeanor was like it was in high school. He really didn't change that much.

I smiled at the screen. I enjoyed the feeling of scary alien man Michael being gone and the Michael I knew coming back. Michael had a way of texting that always made me feel a comfort, even in high school. There was no other way to describe it besides... Michael Mell-ian... Mellon.. waterMELLon... ha, funny. Puns.

A few hours later, I slipped on some mildly attractive Heere-ian clothes; jeans (cuffed, of course), dark blue Converse high tops, and a tee I packed in my suitcase. It was the kind of t-shirt where the sleeves and collar were gray and the rest of the shirt was blue.

I began the five minute walk to Michael's place, little bursts of much-needed serotonin poking at me along the way. There was so existential dread, no social anxiety, no "let's just get this over with" mindset, simply... happiness.

I've never felt this happy to see Michael since the aftermath of the Squip-cident; if not, ever. It wasn't just excitement to see him, it was... a longing. Impatience. Yearn. A want. But, not stalker level want, at least, I hoped not.

Michael's house was finally in sight, and I sped up to the door as fast as I could like I was a little kid. I rang the doorbell, and heard rustling from the inside. A few thumps, and then a "Shit," signified that Michael would be the one answering the door this time around.

The door opened, and there he was. He was wearing his favorite red hoodie, the one that had all the patches on it and got a little small for him over the years, but he still looked quite snug in. His hair wasn't done like the other times I saw him this week, it was just... there.

There was something about his smile that caught me off guard... it was a whole new level of genuine and sweet that I couldn't describe. It made his face look... pretty. He looked really pretty. He was really fucking pretty. Oh my god.

"Hey," he greeted.  
SO SMOOTH, my mind screamed.  
"Hi," I said back, but I dragged it out so it sounded more like "hyeeeeeee."  
"I like your shirt," he said.  
"And uhhh, I like your... hoodie..." it was true, I did like his hoodie, my mouth just couldn't produce words. I was overcome by the unnamable feeling that made my whole body freeze, and my heart thump. I didn't know what it was, but I loved it and hated it at the same time.

"Thanks, heh, surprised it still fits me," he tugged at the hoodie, the patches starting to peel off a bit. He beckoned me in, and I (very happily) obliged.

His house looked exactly the same as it was when I was last in it, like it was stuck in time. It looked as nice as usual, so someone must have come in to maintain its state every so often while Michael and his moms were in the Philippines.

"I got my Wii set up downstairs. Oh, and a choice of a slushee or a beer, one for old times and one to acknowledge the fact that we're legally old enough to drink now," he said.  
"Wow, you really prepared for this, huh," I replied.  
"How could I not? We haven't seen each other in for-fucking-ever. I had to make it special somehow."

I was... surprisingly flattered. No, flattery didn't make my face look red in the mirror. I was... thankful? I was something, and I didn't know what it was, but it was a thing.

Michael led me down into his basement, the same (slightly dusty) red and blue beanbags right in from of the TV which displayed a Wii menu screen. Of course, the music from said screen that every early 2000's kid, including me, reminisced over was playing.

I sunk into the blue bean bag, and that was the moment where I truly felt at home. All of my worries seeped away and for a moment, my only focus was the comforting feeling of a dusty old beanbag chair.  
"Comfy?" Michael asked, slipping into his own designated beanbag.  
"Very."

"Okay, okay, before we do stuff, tell me everything that's been going on in your life. I wanna know," he said.  
"My life isn't very interesting to be honest, I just made some new college friends, including your ex," I explained.  
"What?"  
"Your ex."  
"Which one?"  
I deadpanned at him, "Which one do you think? There's only one ex I know of, dumbass."  
"Rich? You go to the same college as him?"  
"It was completely coincidental, as a matter of fact. You don't hate him still, do you?"

Michael sighed, "I never hated him, even in our worst moments. He's a cool guy."  
"So... you're not mad that I'm close to him?" I asked.  
"Of course not! I haven't seen him in ages, I don't give a fuck what you do with him, as long as you don't talk shit about me or anything."  
"I would never. I'm too old for that shit."  
"I would hope so," Michael raised an eyebrow, giving me a look I couldn't decipher. I really hoped he wasn't still mad at me from the Squip-cident after all these years.

"Sooo, what about you? Anything interesting happen to you?" I rested my head on my hand. I intensely looked at Michael for details.  
"Stressful school, stressful facade, stressful everything. Everything was stressful. My moms only agreed to come back here this summer after a shit ton of convincing from me," he explained, "also, I dated a few hot Filipino guys, but they never lasted for more than a few months."

"Never lasted? When you put it like that, it sounds like you killed them or something."  
"Nah, I decided not to be a serial killer ages ago when I had a dream that I killed everyone I loved. Dream me was lonely, so real me decided to stay a law-abiding citizen and not kill everyone I love," I knew he was joking, at least, I hoped he was.  
"So hot Filipino guys aren't really your type, eh?"  
"No, not really. Yes, they were hot, but their personalities were dull as dishwater. They never liked video games or slushees or tattoos," he said.  
"That's rough, buddy."

I silence fell between us, and we took that as an opportunity to take a sip of our slushees and our cans of beer. The Wii menu music was still ringing in the background.  
Michael finally broke the silence with, "Can I tell you something stupid?"  
"Yeah," I responded after taking another swig of beer.  
"Okay, this is really fucking embarrassing, so don't judge me, okay?"  
"I have no right to judge you, Michael, you know that."  
"True. Okay, so, throughout all of high school... I literally had the biggest crush on you."

I choked on the blue slushee I was slurping, jerking my head to look at my best friend straight in the eye.  
"You... you what?" my heart thumped in my chest.  
"Yeah, I know, stupid, right?"  
"Why didn't you tell me?!" I asked.  
"I don't know, I thought it would ruin our friendship! You're, like, straight, right?"  
"Yeah, but it wouldn't have ruined our friendship! I mean, you can't control your feelings, right? Do you... still feel like that...?"  
Michael hesitated, "...No."

That fact saddened me... for some reason. It made my body position change from excited to disappointed, and once again, I didn't know why. That fact was frustrating the absolute living fuck out of me.

It took me a moment to realize we were amidst another silence, and this time, I felt the need to break it.  
"Do you still have my shirt?" I asked.  
"OH! Yeah, the toxic romance shirt or something like that, right?"  
"My Chemical Romance, but yeah. That's the one."

He tossed me a small black shirt that had the printing Michael vaguely described in his text. I crumpled it up and gently placed it by my side so I wouldn't forget it.

"Enough talk," he said, "Wii Sports?"  
"Wii Sports."

word count: 2085

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took me a while to write, and my updating consistency may be even more spaced considering i start school tomorrow, so uhhhh, sorry about that y'all
> 
> but thank you for the positive feedback for this fic on wattpad AND ao3 is means the world honestly :,)
> 
> also apologies for the lack of italics, i copy-pasted this from wattpad and for some reason they get rid of the italics which is SUPER annoying considering i use italics for emphasis and for internal thoughts ://


	6. chapter six - it's a strange way of saying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy has an epiphany.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: panic attack and a very very slight mention of suicide
> 
> this was really bad but i tried my best
> 
> also I FINALLY FIGURED OUT HOW TO ADD BOLD AND ITALICS IM SO DUMB LMAO

"So, how'd your date go with Michael yesterday?" Rich asked, his consonants slightly muffled from his mic.   
"I told you, it wasn't a date."  
"Uh huh, sure, you expect me to believe that."

I was about to protest, but then I stopped myself and took a deep and long sigh.  
"You never answered my question," Rich said.  
"What? Oh, yeah. Uh... it went fine, but the whole time, I felt... weird. Really weird."  
"Weird, huh? Like, an uncomfortable weird?"  
"I just never experienced that feeling before, y'know?" I explained, "I mean, now that I think about it, I guess I always felt this way around Michael, but it's never been... strong..."

Rich paused for a moment to think of his next response, "Describe the feeling."  
"It's kind of like... I feel a warm and insecure feeling inside whenever I'm around him. Whenever I look at him, I just can't stop. My mind just runs a million miles an hour, and I never experienced this around other people... I don't think," I said.  
"Does your heart rate increase?"  
"Oh yeah, a _ton_."

I heard Rich go "tsk, tsk, tsk" over the call. I could only imagine his facial expressions.   
"I know exactly what's going on with you, Heere," he said.  
"You do? What is it?" I asked, anticipation building.   
"You _like_ him!"  
"I... what?! No, I don't like him! I don't think... I don't _think_ I like him. I don't like him."   
"I know a liar when I see one," Rich teased.

I didn't respond. I simply leaned back and thought about Rich's answer to my problem. I was _straight_ , I didn't like men. I liked women. I was attracted to feminine bodies.

"But... I can't like him. I'm straight. I like _women_ ," I protested.  
"Uhhhhhmm, did you forget that my sexuality was a thing? Bisexuality? Girls? Hot! Guys? Hot! I feel _so_ invalidated right now," Rich responded.   
"I never really saw myself as being bisexual..."   
"Then, don't label yourself. Just because you may like a dude doesn't mean you have to go under a label right away."

I barely paid attention to what he said. Everything was starting to make sense; the pieces were fitting together like a puzzle.  
"I think... fuck... I think I like Michael," I mumbled, more to myself than Rich.  
"No shit, Sherlock," Rich deadpanned. I laughed at his response, feeling a little relieved that I finally identified what the _fuck_ was going on with me for the past week.

A realization suddenly hit me, "Fuuuuuuuuck."  
"What?"  
"I... shit, I remember the last time we hung out, he told me he liked me for all of high school, and when I asked him if he still did, he said 'no,'" I said, my mood immediately being ruined.  
"Oh noooooooo, that sucks, man."  
"Yeah, it sucks! Now I'm stuck with these stupid feelings for god knows how long until I get _over_ them."

"You know, you can still shoot your shot. He's single, right? Those feelings have gotta be in there somewhere," Rich said.  
"I know, but like... he already _told_ me he didn't like me like that anymore. If I made a move after that knowledge was disclosed, that would just make me seem like a creep," I replied.  
"You don't have to slap his ass or anything! Maybe you could simply tell him how you feel. He told you how he felt in the past, I'm sure he would understand."

"Rich, I literally just figured out this knowledge, what, thirty seconds ago? I need time to be sure if the feelings are romantic or just really, really strong platonic ones," I said.  
Rich sighed, "Fine, fine. I gotta go to bed anyway, I stayed up 'til four o'clock in the last night. That's what insomnia does to you, I guess."  
"Alright, bye man."  
"Bye."

We left the Discord voice call. I stood up from my desk chair and flopped back-first onto my bed. My eyes drifted over the bumpy paint on the ceiling; I never understood why that stylistic choice of ceiling texture was ever a thing.

I messaged Michael an hour earlier, but he hadn't responded. I assumed that he was most likely busy, but my overthinking brain couldn't help but tell me that he was mad at me or something like that.

After a few minutes of staring off into space, my phone vibrated. I snapped out of my daze and immediately picked up my phone.

_Today at 9:31 PM_

**Michael:** _Csn you come kver?_   
**Michael:** _I'm sprry about thr typos i'm shakinh so bad right jow_   
**Michael:** _Inrwally need someone I'm reslly sorry if this js a bad timw but olease_

I responded within the same minute it was sent. My thumbs were typing at lighting speed.

**Me:** _yeah, of course, i'll be there as soon as i can_   
**Me:** _are you okay? what's going on??_

**Michael:** _Therw's a rock keu outside tje front door_

I didn't give a shit that I was in my pajamas. I didn't give a shit that my dad wouldn't know where I was going, and I didn't give a shit that I was tired. I slipped on some shoes, grabbed my car keys, and sped walked as fast as I could out of my front door.

I decided to drive to Michael's house so I would be there faster. I didn't care about anything else, I just needed to get to _Michael_.

My car pulled into his driveway about a minute later. I slammed the car door closed and booked it to the front door. There, as Michael said, was a fake rock with a key inside. I opened the lid to the compartment in the rock and unlocked his door.

Leaving the key in the door, I pushed it open and stood in the doorway.

"Michael?" I called. He wasn't in sight.

My anxiety tripled. The first place I figured to check was his bedroom. I ran as fast as I could up the stairs.

His bedroom door was closed, and I heard some sort of rustling from inside the room. I gave myself no room to hesitate. I immediately turned the knob and pushed the door open.

Michael was sitting on his bed. His knees were drawn to his chest with his arms wrapped around them. His body expanded and contracted with his rapid breathing and he was shaking wildly. His phone was lying face up next to him.

"Michael?" I said, my heart aching, "What happened?"

He lifted his head up and noticed that I was there. There were streams of tears down his face.  
"I d-don't know, i-it j-just started h-happening," Michael's voice was shaky and unstable.

I assumed that this was a panic attack. I remembered Michael telling me that he had them in high school, but I've never _seen_ him have one. I had no idea how to handle this situation, but seeing Michael like this broke my heart into pieces.

I ran over to where he was sitting and kneeled in front of him so I wouldn't be towering over him. My mind to try and come up with something to do to help him, because I couldn't just _sit_ there while my best friend had a _fucking panic attack._

"Just... uh... take deep breaths, okay? I-I'm here, I'm not going anywhere, just breathe," I assured him. I tried to slow down my own breathing so he could match mine, and it seemed to be working to some sort of extent, "Are you okay with me hugging you-"

I was cut off by Michael pulling my body to his. He clung onto me like I was the last thing he would ever see. His face was buried into my chest and he was still shaking as violently as before.

My arms wrapped around him in return, keeping him in a secure hold. We didn't say anything; occasionally, I would assure him that everything would be okay and that I was here, but he didn't say anything in return. I didn't think he even could.

His breathing was getting shorter and less consistent, and his heartbeat increased in speed. Things didn't seem to be getting better, they were getting _worse_. I suddenly started to become anxious _for_ him. That only tightened my hold on him.

The time when his panic attack was at its worst was a terrible time for both of us. He was most likely going through absolute hell, and I was worried sick for his well-being.

It took around ten minutes for his symptoms to die down, but it still felt like hours. I was holding him the whole time. I was so fucking worried about him, but I absolutely refused to show it. I didn't want to make it worse by making him worry about me being worried.

When it stopped, his body almost caved in on me. He was limp. His grip on me loosened slightly, but I clutched onto him tightly.

Michael finally pulled away. His face was tearstained and his eyes were tired and worn.

"A-are you o-okay...?" I asked, my voice slightly shaking.   
"No," he sniffed, "but I'm feeling better than I did before."   
"Do you need anything?"  
"There's a plastic bottle of water on my desk over there, c-could you go get it for me?"  
I smiled a little, "Yeah, of course."

I went over his desk and retrieved the half-drunken bottle of water for him. Michael took it out of my hand and began taking large swigs of it.  
"Thanks," he said. His voice sounded tired and hoarse.   
"Do you need anything else? I'm here for as long as you need, I can even stay over if you want."  
"No, you don't have to do that, I wouldn't want to take up your time."  
"It's no worries at all," I insisted, "my life is boring, I have nothing going on, anyways."

Michael hesitated for a moment, "...Could you? Y'know, stay the night?"  
I nodded, resting my hand on top of his. I suddenly jerked it away because my overthinking brain told me that it was a little _too_ gay to do that.

But, Michael brought my hand back to his. This time, I let it stay. Michael squeezed my hand and interlocked his fingers with mine. My heart skipped a beat.

"Thank you... for this. For everything. Thank you for being here for me," he said.  
"I should be thanking _you_. I did a lot of shitty stuff in high school that I regret, but yet you still stayed my best friend. Why?" I asked.  
Michael paused for a couple of seconds before responding, "Because I l- because I knew that you were a better person than the shitty things you did. You've grown from your mistakes, and look at you now. If I completely cut you out of my life, I probably.... Jeremy, I probably wouldn't be here right now."

"Michael..."  
"Cheesy, I know, but I'm telling the truth. I'm sorry that we missed out on a few years of our friendship while I was away. I'm... really glad I came back here this summer."  
My face heated up, most likely because I was blushing, but I made no effort to hide it. I really just... wanted to fucking _kiss_ him at that moment, but I didn't have the nerve.

I tightened my grip on his hand as he leaned his head on my shoulder. My emotions felt like a tornado swirling around my head, mostly _gay_ feelings.

I felt... like everything was okay.

**word count: 1947**


	7. chapter seven - okay.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love?

The morning sunlight poured into the window when I opened my eyes. For a second, I forgot where I was, but then I remembered. And then I noticed the sight of Michael nestled safely up against me, his arms wrapped around my torso.

We didn't do anything phallic the night before, obviously, because such an action would be extremely inappropriate considering the situation. But, that didn't discard the fact that Michael and I fell asleep in each other's arms. Was it for a platonic reason? For me, no, for Michael, I assumed so. He had a rough evening and needed a sense of security.

But then there was me, head over absolute fucking heels for this guy, wondering if it really was just platonic. I didn't assume it _was_ romantic, because with my love interests before, they would make me _think_ that they took an interest in me and then, inevitably, would talk about how much they liked this other person a few weeks later. Either they lead me on and changed their minds, or I was just _very_ bad at reading signs (probably both).

But with Michael, it was different. _He_ was different. He wasn't just some cute girl I met at a frat party, he was my best friend of almost two decades. I knew him, I knew he wouldn't lead me on; so, I couldn't help but get my hopes up.

His face was pressed up against my chest. All I could see was his jet black, soft, bedhead hair. It brushed up against my chin. His torso expanded and contracted with his deep, stable breathing that I tried to match. He looked so adorable, I couldn't help but gayly smile to myself (gayly in the happiness connotation and gayly in the homosexual connotation).

I suddenly felt his body stir before slipping out of my arms and sitting up. I felt slightly empty. Michael rubbed his eyes and stretched while yawning.  
"Morning," he croaked, his voice raspy. He looked down and smiled at my horizontal body.   
"Hey," I replied, also sitting up. Michael reached over to the nightstand and put on his glasses, "you feeling any better?"

"A little," Michael responded, "better than I was last night."  
"Yeah?" I said, "Well, that's good. I'm glad I was here, I'm glad you didn't have to suffer alone."  
"Yeah, I guess," oh no. I sensed a slight change in his tone, which made alarms go off in my head.   
"You okay? You sound a little... off."  
"I'm fine," he dismissed. No, he wasn't.  
"Michael."  
"I'm fine, okay? Get off of my case."

I wasn't convinced in the slightest that he was fine. He sounded anything but. Michael sat there on the side of the bed with his back to me, and I became even more worried. There was something bothering him.

"You can tell me, y'know. It's not like I'm gonna tweet about it or anything," I said.  
"I can, but I'm not."  
"Michael, you can't just hide stuff from me. We're too mature for this."  
"No, _you're_ too mature for this. I'll do whatever I want."

I was taken aback by his tone. The last time he was this snappy was when we were trying to fix things after the whole Squip shit a few years back. I scooted up to where he was and sat next to him, giving him a clear and obvious worried look.

"I did something, didn't I," I said.  
"Huh?"  
"I fucked up. I hurt you again without realizing it, like always. Just tell me, what did I do this time?" I almost felt like my angsty teenage self again, like no time even passed at all, like this was junior year all over again.  
Michael sighed, "It's not even you fault. It's not even your fucking fault and I'm still acting like this. Like an immature asshole."  
"What isn't my fault? What did I do wrong!?"

"The fact that you don't love me like that, okay? I know you never did, and I know you never will, and every time I got my hopes up thinking that you did you would just... go off about your fucking crush or something! It was like a stab in the gut, y'know? It hurt! And I thought I could handle it but I just... fucking couldn't! I still can't! I thought I would get over this after all of this time, but guess what?! I'm still head over fucking heels for you and it fucking hurts me! And I know you don't like guys, and I know you don't like me, and I shouldn't even be mad at you because it's not your fault. I can't force you to like me. But that doesn't ignore the fact that I like you, Jeremy! I really, really, like you! I always have."

Michael angrily wiped his tears with his sleeves, most likely regretting that whole monologue. His face was red, his eyes were shiny, his shoulders were tense, and it seemed he had so much bottled up inside him for so long that it boiled over. I had nothing to say. I could only stare at him.

"Michael..."   
"What?" he snapped.  
I rested my hand on his shoulder, "Michael."  
"What?!"  
"C'mere," I pulled him into a soft hug, and he hesitated before returning it to me. He clung to the back of my shirt, "I'm sorry I was such a fucking idiot."  
"No. I shouldn't have lashed out like that. I'm sorry," he said, his face buried into my shoulder.   
"I'm not straight," I blurted, almost out of the blue.

Michael pulled away to look at my face, "What?"  
"You heard me, I'm not straight. I lean both ways."  
"Hold on, what?!"   
"Yeah... I figured it out yesterday."   
He grabbed a fistful of his hair, tears still in his eyes, and began to laugh hysterically, "A-and of course, you still don't like me, right?"   
"N-no, I do," I admitted.  
"You're lying."  
"No, I-I'm really not."  
"If you're not lying, then kiss me, I dare you, fucking kiss me."  
"Fine, bet!"

Without warning, I firmly placed my hands on both of his shoulders and pulled his body towards me. Our lips pressed against each other within a second of doing so. It wasn't sloppy, it was perfectly aimed and earnest. His lips were soft, wished I could say the same for mine.

I figured that Michael would pull away after a few seconds, but he didn't. Instead, he raised his hands to my head and tangled his fingers into my hair.

I pulled away briefly for air, but after I barely took a breath, Michael grabbed the collar of my shirt and pulled me back into another kiss. My heart was pounding in my chest. He didn't hesitate in the slightest. All of my emotions seemed to be on fire, and I felt blood rush to my face and... other places.

I didn't want it ever to stop, but we somehow ended up pulling away from each other anyway. Michael's face was red and sweating, and I assumed mine was in the same state.  
  
"I believe you now," Michael said, gasping for breath.  
"Good, hoped you would."  
"Maybe we should talk over this first."  
"Uhh, yeah, no shit," I said.  
  
Michael laughed, and my _god_ , was that laugh fucking pretty. We both spent a good thirty seconds staring blankly at the wall trying to comprehend what just happened.

"Wanna watch some YouTube or something?" Michael asked after a painfully long silence.  
"Gladly," I replied.

**word count: 1259**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i tried


	8. chapter eight - some nights it gets so bad

"Where the hell have you been? I almost sent out a search warrant for you, you know that?"   
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I should've left a note or something. I was just in a rush, that's all."

My dad let out a sigh. His shoulders descended as the tension escaped them, "I'm just glad you're okay. Just... tell me when you're going out next time, okay? I know you're an adult now but it doesn't mean your old man can't worry."   
I heard Lily's high-pitched barks from a few rooms over, "Guess Lily's mad at me too, huh?" I joked.   
"You know it," my dad replied.

I chuckled as my dad turned attention elsewhere, most likely to see what Lily was barking at. I went up to my room and threw myself on my bed. My eyes were locked on the same popcorn paint ceiling that they were wont to being locked on.

Nothing else really happened since I kissed Michael. The rest of the time I was there, we didn't even mention it. We didn't talk about our relationship boundaries, we didn't acknowledge our feelings for each other, we just watched YouTube in an unsatisfactory silence.

Well, unsatisfactory for me, at least. I didn't know about him.

After doing that for an hour or two, I finally realized that no more advances would be taken, and I told him that my dad probably wanted me home. The disappointment in Michael's eyes made me sadder than it probably should've, but he let me go anyway. It was weirdly silent.

The events in the past fourteen hours or so replayed in my head over and over again. The situation left me excruciatingly touch starved, and all I wanted to do was go back there and cuddle with Michael in the most wholesomely homosexual way possible. The only problem was my crippling insecurity didn't let me do that.

Whilst staring at the ceiling, I would periodically, no, constantly check my phone for any texts from Michael, but every time I checked, there was nothing. Of course there was nothing.

After a few minutes of giving up on checking my phone, my phone vibrated. A bolt of excitement ran through me as I picked it up. My face dropped when I saw it wasn't from Michael, but it was from Rich, asking me to play Minecraft with him. Typical. I replied with yes, turned on my computer, and opened Discord.

I saw that Rich was already in the voice call, so I joined, the little jingle going off signifying so.   
"What's up, hoe?" he greeted in the most ironically seductive way possible.  
"Very funny, Goranski. Y'know, you still haven't given me that ender pearl yet."  
"I said it was mine. You can't have it."  
"It's only one!! One ender pearl!! Fucking one!"

"Go get some yourself, asshole," he grumbled.  
"Fine, maybe I will," I rolled my eyes. This was not what I needed right now.

I was on that call with Rich for about three hours. During that time, I would repeatedly check my phone for a text from Michael. Still nothing.

Rich carried the conversation for most of the voice call. I was too stuck in my own mind to be super social at that moment. 

"Yo, you okay? You sound... off." Fuck. He noticed.  
"I guess so," I said.  
"You guess so? What the fuck does that mean?"  
"It means what it means."  
"Something happened, didn't it. Am I going to have to assault somebody?" he asked.   
"No, no you won't. It's just... it's Michael."

He sighed, "What happened with Michael?"  
"Basically we kissed and now he's not talking to me."  
"Y'all what?!"   
"I know, I know, I can't believe it either," I said, "We haven't discussed it since, and he hasn't texted me at all since I left his house a few hours ago."  
"That's a red flag. Drop him, hon," Rich said.  
"There's no fuckin' way I'm dropping him for this. Maybe he's just busy. Besides, it's only been a few hours."

Rich groaned, most likely at my stupidity, "I'm gonna go and let you deal with this on your own."  
"You're gonna leave me with my mess of gay emotions??" I protested.  
"Yes. That's exactly what I'm gonna do."  
"Asshole."  
"Hey, you'll thank me for this later. You don't want relationship advice from me, trust me, it'll get you into some bad situations," he explained.  
"Noted."

Rich left the call, and I was left with silence... and my own thoughts. It was going to be a rough afternoon for my overthinking ass.

I had absolutely no way to stimulate myself, so I simply put in my ear buds, turned on my playlist, and went back to staring at the ceiling. Thoughts still rushed through my head, but that fact was secondary to the amazing music blasting into my ears. It made me wonder how the people who wrote these songs came up with them; they're geniuses.

I was on my bed for so long that I didn't notice how much time past; fifteen minutes, and then thirty minutes, and then an hour, and then an hour and a half, and then two hours. It was seven in the evening when I finally snapped out of my somewhat trance.

"Jesus Christ," I mumbled to myself, looking out of the window and seeing the sun lower in the sky. I checked my phone again out of habit. Still nothing.

Despite the fact that what happened at Michael's was this morning, it felt like a million years ago. It felt like so much had happened since then, even though all I did was play Minecraft with Rich and stare at my ceiling.

I eventually gave up on waiting for Michael to text me. It was a lost cause. There was no fucking way I was going to text him first, either. He probably didn't even want to talk to me, so what was the point?

My body fell back onto my bed, my eyes fixed on the window. It gradually got darker and darker until I could barely see the outside. It was just black.

I fell asleep to the sound of light rain starting to fall. It made a rumbling sound that seemed to put my whole body at ease.

word count: 1051

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mmmmm filler
> 
> don't worry more interesting stuff will happen next chapter whenever tf i update it 😼
> 
> \- mari


	9. chapter nine - different

Throughout my steady stroll in and out of consciousness throughout the night (it was one of those nights), the undertone of the steady rain set the base for my thoughts. Every time I would drift barely awake, the sound of the rain would be the only think I would hear, sense, think about. Then, after a few seconds, it would slowly lull me to sleep again.

I always loved thunderstorms, especially on a night when I didn't have school the next day. I would stay up until midnight or one in the morning simply enjoying the sounds. You know how people watch those ASMR videos on YouTube? Yeah, that rain _was_ my ASMR.

Sometimes Michael was over on a night like this. Despite not being as much into the thunderstorms as I was, he would always listen to the rain with me. We would jump at thunder claps and lighting flashes and hold each other, giggling from the thrill.

The last time we did this was in the summer before junior year, but after all the Squip shit, we just... stopped. We would usually ignore the rain to play video games. I wanted to listen to the rain with him again so badly, but I was always too awkward to ask, in fear he would probably lash out at me or something.

At a moment where I would peak into consciousness again, the rain was slightly louder. Less... subtle. I ignored it as simply the rain getting more aggressive, until it didn't settle me to sleep like usual.

As I woke up more, I realized that the louder sound wasn't rain... it sounded like a tapping. A human-produced tapping on glass.

My eyes shot open and I sprung upright at a ninety degree angle. My head immediately turned to the window, where the tapping sound seemed to originate.

From the first moment, I knew I was fucked. Or maybe I was just going crazy. I didn't know. If I knew anything, I knew I was scared shitless and I probably had to leave the room as fast as possible.

But instead, I did the dumb thing: slowly creep over to my window to see what was making the mysterious tapping noise. I lifted the blinds and saw the faint outline of a figure in the darkness; an anthropomorphic one.

My heart dropped into the pit of my stomach as I let out a loud shriek. I recoiled from the window in hopes that maybe it would go away and I was just going batshit insane, but it didn't. It was still there.

I was about to pull out my phone to call 911 until a bolt of lighting struck, lighting up the figure. For a split second, I could see the face of it. It was faint, but it was enough for me to recognize it.

"Holy shit," I mumbled to myself, rushing over to the window and sliding it open, "Michael?! What the everliving fuck are you doing?!"   
"Uh... hi?" he replied, giving his stupid fucking adorable awkward smile that made me melt from just looking at it.  
"Get the hell in here!" I shouted back, still in shock. He climbed in through the window and I closed it before another lighting bolt could occur. Michael was dripping wet. His usually fluffy hair was flat and fell in front of his face, and his entire hoodie was soaked.

I took a deep breath before letting all of my words out, "What the fuck were you thinking? It's two in the morning, you scared me to death and back, and that lighting bolt could've killed you!! What are you, crazy?"   
"I'm sorry!! I just... missed you...?" he said.  
"Missed me? You fucking MISSED ME? If that was the case, how come you haven't texted me since I left? Bitch, you left me on _read_."   
"I-I didn't mean to, I just... fuck..." Michael paused before thinking of his next sentence, "I didn't know what to say. I thought... I dunno. I just wanted to see you again."  
"At two in the morning?"  
"Yes, at two in the morning."

All of my shock, frustration, anger, confusion, and gayness condensed into a nervous laughter fit that probably a crazy murderer would do. I began to laugh so hard that I had to catch my breath. Tears were starting to form. I was so confused, so _fucking_ confused.

"W-what the fuck, M-Michael?" I stammered out in between laughs. That was it, I was going insane. It felt like I was, anyway, "You're an idiot, you know that? You fucking know that?" More tears fell from my eyes. They were the frustrated, confused tears. All I wanted to know was what the fuck was going on, and I didn't. I wanted to so bad, but I just couldn't.

My laughing soon turned to full on sobbing. My body and mind went into an uncontrollable mode that I never knew they could go into. A medley of insane emotions began to blow over, emotions I couldn't hold in any longer, and the only way I could express them was through crying.

"J-Jeremy...?" I could hear an overwhelming concern in his voice, "Oh, f-fuck, I'm sorry, I should've just... fuck, I can just leave if you want..."  
"NO. I mean, uh, no. J-just... stay," god, I looked and sounded so pathetic. It was humiliating.   
"I'm so sorry, Jeremy. I'm so, so, so sorry," Michael was apologizing profusely.   
"Just... stop playing with my feelings. Stop making me so fucking confused all the time... please..." I begged. It practically came out of nowhere, but the past week had been nothing but me questioning things. I just wanted to be certain about something. I wanted to be certain about _Michael_ for once.

"I-I'm sorry... I didn't mean to..."  
"I know, I know, I'm j-just... overreacting, as always," the tears began to lessen, and I got ahold of my breathing.... somehow. My heart was still pounding. Michael's facial expression was something that haunted me; the pure look of hurt. I was being so shitty to him at that moment, and for what? Sympathy? A kiss? A relationship? Just because I reset to the mind of a whiny angsty teenager that got upset over everything?

I wiped the last of my tears with my arm. No more of them fell. I deeply inhaled. I was tired of feeling, I just wanted to... I didn't know what I wanted to do. All I knew was that I just wanted to get my shit together and talk to my best friend like a normal fucking person.  
  
"I don't know what just happened," I mumbled.  
"Yeah, well, I didn't either. Maybe it would be better if I just left, yeah? I'm clearly not helping the situation here," Michael responded.  
"Micha..."   
"No, it's fine, really."  
"Can we just... fucking talk about this?"  
"What is there to talk about, Jeremy?"   
"I- EVERYTHING?? This? Us?! Our relationship? Our feelings? What we were supposed to talk about YESTERDAY?"   
Michael sighed, "Fine. Let's talk."

He sat on the bed calmly, all emotions leaving his face. I couldn't decipher his current state, but it was probably similar to my own clusterfuck.   
"Do you really think we're ready for a relationship after all of this shit just happened?" Michael asked, referencing the argument we just had moments before.   
I chuckled, "No, not at all, but I wish we were. Being your boyfriend would be... pretty cool, if you ask me."  
He returned the laughter, "I agree... thought so since... god, I don't even know how long. The waiting felt like an eternity. Your relationship with Christine felt the longest."  
"Did it?"  
Michael nodded, "Mhm. You two were like, 'forever in love' or whatever. I couldn't fuck with that."

"I feel bad," I admitted.  
"Don't. It's all in the past now. But lemme tell you, I listened the _Girlfriend_ by Avril Lavigne on repeat."  
I snorted in laughter, "You what?! No way, I loved that song."

A silence broke out once the laughter died down. Michael looked straight into my face, and I was mesmerized by his eyes.  
"You're really pretty, you know," he commented.  
"Are you sure those glasses work? Maybe you need to get a new prescription."  
"Shush, you're really pretty. That's final."   
"You're even prettier," I mumbled.

Michael rolled his eyes, but our eye contact was still locked.   
"C-could I..." Michael started, carefully placing his hand on the side of my jaw. My face became hot as soon as I realized what he was doing.  
"U-uh, yeah, of course..." I said quietly in return.

He took his other hand and squeezed mine. It was the nicest, most secure hold I've ever felt. We closed the gap between our lips. It was just like what happened the day before, only... sweeter. Less forced. It was completely genuine.

Michael pushed his body closer to mine. I gasped subtly when I felt his tongue swipe my bottom lip. Holy shit. I slowly opened my mouth and his tongue slipped in between my teeth, meeting my own tongue. It felt so different. Different than any other time I've made out with someone before.

My heart rate began to speed up again, and as it did, so did my anxiety. When he started lightly sucking on my tongue was the limit for me, and I jerked away out of reflex.   
"Ah, fuck, I'm sorry, it was habit, jesus I just made this so awkward."  
Michael shook his head, his mouth slightly upturned into a smile, "You taste like the faint remainder of mint toothpaste."  
"I-I u-uh... and y-you taste l-like slushees."  
"I'll take that as a compliment."

We both laughed as he leaned his forehead against mine. It was still damp from the rain, but I didn't mind.   
"Don't sweat it," he assured me, his tone so comforting that I felt all warm and fuzzy inside, "we'll figure this out, yeah? Right now it's a shitshow, but we'll figure this out. We'll be okay."   
"It's all just happening so fast..." I replied.  
"Then, we can take it slow. Don't worry, I don't mind."

Michael dropped his head from my forehead to my shoulder. He buried his face into it, wrapping his arms around my left arm. His hair soaked my shirt, but once again, I didn't care.   
"You staying here tonight?" I asked.  
"I mean, sure, my moms don't care."   
"Cool."

We didn't say anything more for the next several minutes. It was just him nestling into my shoulder and him breathing steadily.   
  
_I love you_ , I thought, but of course, it was way too early to say that, _you dumbass_. There we go. Now it sounded less cheesy.

Let the good times roll.

**word count: 1804**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote this in one sitting.
> 
> that's how much boyfs brain vomit i had to secrete
> 
> \- mari


	10. chapter ten - i'm supposed to love you

When I woke up the next morning, the night before felt like nothing more than a dream. The right side of my bed was empty, but I could still see the slight imprint of Michael's body in the mattress and pillow.

And just like that, I was touch starved and yearning once again. He went to sleep nestled in my arms again, his warmth giving me an indescribable comfort, but I woke up with my arms empty and me feeling very, very cold.

I was only in my boxers. No, we didn't have sex... at least, there wasn't any sex that I remembered.

I slipped out of bed. The cold air hit my bare skin like a tidal wave, and goosebumps rose. I wandered to the mirror next to my bed. More memories flooded back as soon as I saw myself.

Hickeys. All over the side of my neck, collarbone, and on the center of my upper chest. _Lovely_.

I remembered everything, now.

*****

"Have you ever felt a sense of fulfillment in a relationship before?" Michael asked me, fiddling with an unused stress ball he took from my shelf.   
I had to think about it for a moment, "No, and every time I did, they would leave."  
"Have you ever... forced yourself to love somebody?"  
I shrugged, "I don't know. I mean, not intentionally, at least. You?"  
Michael nodded, his eyes glued to the stress ball.  
"Rich?" I asked, and he nodded again.

I always figured in the back of my mind that maybe he got with Rich as an attempt to get over me, but that just confirmed it. I felt... bad.   
"Do you still get mad at me sometimes? Y'know, for that whole Squip thing? And how I treated you  
like shit?"   
Michael made eye contact with me before answering, "I don't know. It was so long ago that I almost forgot what it felt like, but yeah, sometimes it still stings. It was at a point where I could consider it trauma."  
The truth hurt more than that one time I tripped over a wasps' nest and got stung three times, but I needed to hear it.  
  
"I'm sorry. For everything."

*****

I slipped on a shirt and shorts over my boxers. It was a way to hide most of the hickeys from my dad, and just a bit of concealer would finish the job.

I took a deep breath and looked at myself in the mirror once again.  
"C'mon, one step at a time," I assured myself. I was tired, lonely, and intoxicated by my own thoughts. I had to focus on my daily tasks at hand.

A random tune popped into my head and I was soon humming it as I crept down the stairs. My dad was already up and watching TV, and Lily was going absolutely insane over the mailman coming to our door to deliver packages.

"Shut uuuuuup," I groaned over her barks. I picked her up and carried her to another room away from the front door, "crazy dog. You're lucky you're so goddamn adorable."   
"Well, look who's up," my dad stood up from the couch. He looked over at me and smiled.  
"Morning," I smiled back despite the emotional stress I felt.

"There were a lot of noises coming from your room last night. Who were you talking to?" he asked.  
"Just Rich over _Discord_ call," I lied, even though I didn't have much reason to. I was an adult. My father couldn't ground me anymore.  
"Ah, I see. Want me to make you anything for breakfast?"  
I shook my head, "No thanks, I'm not hungry. I'll probably just run to the store later or something."   
"If you say so, private," my dad responded before sitting back down on the couch.

I crouched down to let Lily go. She simply stood in the same place for a few seconds before running off to chew on one of her rawhide bones. For a moment I was jealous of her, because all she was worried about was her bone while I had to worry about all of these complicated emotions.

*****  
"This is kind of gay," Michael said, smirking. He was right, it was gay. We somehow ended up in the position where he was pinned to the wall while I was hovering over him. He seemed to accept the position, though. He didn't try to flip us over, he simply smiled at me like I was the most beautiful person in the world, which of course was totally wrong. He was.

"Yeah, maybe a little," I replied. I didn't move, though. He soon grabbed the collar of my shirt and pulled my lips onto his for what was probably the fourth time that night. I pulled away after a few seconds. His face was red.   
"You're okay with this, right?" he asked, "I know you said you wanted to talk first, and I..."   
"We'll think logically later. For now, I just want to kiss you again."   
Michael laughed, "sounds good with me."

We both started giggling before our lips connected again. I was smiling like an idiot while doing so. He was twirling a lock of my hair with his finger.

"You are absolutely gorgeous, Jeremy Heere," he commented after I pulled away.  
"Oh, hush."  
"It's true, just sayin'. I cant even get my eyes off of you."  
"I strongly disagree," I said, rolling my eyes.  
"Would you stop picking yourself apart like that?" Michael asked, a slight sadness plaguing his eyes.   
"I'll try."   
"Thank you, now kiss me again, please."  
"Gladly."

*****

I wandered back upstairs and collapsed on my bed. My flood of thoughts was so heavy I thought as though it would leak out through my ears.

I opened my phone to Michael's contact on messages. I scrolled up and looked through our past texts, even the ones from years ago before we drifted apart. I was reading every conversation and smiling on whatever memory it brought back.

I risked my composure by scrolling even farther back to senior year. It was mostly just regular conversations two friends would have over text. Most of our contact was in person, after all. As I scrolled farther and farther back, I eventually got back to the texts right after the Squip incident.

They weren't normal. They were mostly paragraphs of me apologizing or him telling me  
how he was hurt. I was too afraid to face him in person during that time.

After the paragraphs were just short and dry texts trying to fill a conversation and trying to rebuild a friendship. They were incredibly difficult to read, considering how different Michael and I's relationship was currently. I closed out of the text, that was enough trips down memory lane for me.

I wondered if I even changed since that time. I knew I tried to, but did it work? Did I really grow from my mistakes, or did I just age and retain the same dickheadedness that sixteen-year-old Jeremy contained?

Whatever the answer was, I didn't know. And it scared me.

*****

"Jeremy," Michael whispered, "Jeremy!"  
My heavy eyes forced themselves to open. It was dark in my room. The silhouette of Michael stood in front of me at the side of the bed.  
"Mmyeah...?" I mumbled, barely awake.  
"My moms called, it turns out they want me home. I'm so sorry, but I have to go."  
"Buhislike.... two inna mornin..." I slurred like I was drunk.

Michael chuckled to himself, "I'll text you tomorrow, I promise, okay?"   
"M'kay."  
He planted a soft kiss on my forehead. It felt really nice.  
"Bye!" he swiftly climbed out of my window. My eyes immediately closed afterwards and consciousness was out of my grasp.

*****

I placed my hand on my forehead directly where I kissed me. I never wanted to wash my forehead ever again, and if my skin wasn't so oily and required daily cleaning there, I probably would've fulfilled that desire.

It had only been a few hours, but I missed him already. I wanted to text him, but my socially anxious ass told me not to.

I didn't need to beat myself up over that for too long, however, because a minute or so later, my phone vibrated.

I've never picked up my phone faster in my entire life. I felt my heart flutter when I saw the notification.

**Today at 10:37 AM**

**Michael** ✨ **:** _hey_ 😳

_———————————————————————————_

**word count: 1405**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so tired jesus christ but SOMEHOW i wrote this chapter in like an hour and a half which is... revolutionary....
> 
> i'm not going to sleep yet tho i still got shit to do 
> 
> \- mari 💜


End file.
